Made a Wrong Turn
by Mrs. Cedric Cullen
Summary: Oneshot. Kurt never thought he'd be doing this to himself, yet he also never thought that no one would notice. WARNING: Explicit descriptions of self-harm. Don't like, don't read. Possible triggers. Rating just to be safe. Epilogue added!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a really, **_**really**_** dark and depressing oneshot, and honestly, I won't be offended if you decide that it's not really you're cup of tea and you don't want to read it. But to all of you out there that do, carry on, and leave a review when you're finished, for those who review get cyber-cookies and a cyber-kazoo!**

**Warnings: Explicit descriptions of self-harm, language.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of the characters or places. I do own DVR, with which I watch and re-watch every episode multiple times.**

_Fag._

The cool blade touches his skin, and he shivers in anticipation.

_Fucking Faggot._

His eyes slowly slide closed, his breath audible in the silent room.

_Go to hell you fucking faggot._

He presses the blade deeper into the milky white flesh of his forearm, familiar territory now.

_No one could ever fucking love you._

The sensation of tearing skin shoots up his arm, hitting every nearby nerve, and a cruel, sick smile creeps onto his lips.

_Why don't you just fucking kill yourself?_

_/Not today.../_ He tells himself, the pain in his heart lessening as the drops of blood run down his deathly pale arm and into the smooth, porcelain sink.

_Soon_, he promises himself.

Quickly, with practiced hands, he cleans the razor blade, allowing his fingers to linger longer than usual on the inviting sharp edge, before running his bleeding wrist under the cool water, hissing softly. It's not enough, but for now, it's just enough to keep trooping on.

"Kurt, what's that on your wrist?"

He looks over at Blaine, thinking fast.

"We're watching our neighbor's cats while she's out of town. One of them scratched me," he says with a shrug, taking a sip of his coffee.

_I hate myself, and I wish I was dead, so I cut myself every night! Our neighbor's don't own a fucking cat! Don't believe a word I just said!_

Blaine smiles, replying, "Yeah, cats have a tendency to do that..."

Kurt fakes a smile.

"Tell me about it."

He lies in his bed, hyper-aware that his stepbrother is lying in the bed right next to his, facing away from the taller boy. Staring almost mesmerized at the offending wrist, he traces over the scabs and scars, heart pounding at the memory of the soothing pain that afflicted those wounds.

Unconsciously, his eyes shift closed as his short fingernails dig as deeply as possible into his arm, hissing ever-so-softly at the slight feeling of release it brings. Adrenaline courses through his veins as a few ruby drops seep through the half-moon shaped cuts.

The feeling lulls him to sleep like some sick, gruesome lullaby.

Mercedes is the first to notice something is off.

"White boy, what's going on? You're paler than usual and you keep spacing out when we're trying to talk about fashion."

Kurt panics internally for a few seconds before saying, "I just- had kind of a rough night last night. Couldn't sleep."

_Yes, that much is true... Now tell her about the-_

Mercedes smiles, saying, "Does Finn snore or something?"

_There's an alibi; snatch it up, dumbass._

Kurt smiles, gushing, although it seems hollow, "Oh, you have /no/ idea, Mercedes! He sounds like heavy machinery or something."

_Dont fall for it, don't fall for it!_

Mercedes grins.

_Good, she fell for it. Thank God she fell for it._

She links arms with him, walking to Glee club, where Kurt anticipates question after question about his well-being.

Glee club passes; no one says a word to him about the way he's acting. His heart beats hollowly in his chest and his mind races as they're dismissed.

_Nobody cares, that's why they didn't ask. They don't care about you. They don't love you. No one loves you._

He walks to his locker, feeling empty, like there's nothing left inside of him and he's just a walking zombie of a person. He fumbles a bit with his lock before the door opens and he grabs the folder he needed. He shuts it, ignoring the tears threatening to prick at the corners of his eyes, before walking briskly to his car, anxious to get home.

The second he walks in the door, after greeting his Dad, he throws out an alibi: "I have a ton of homework, tonight."

_Actually, I'll be in my bathroom cutting myself, so don't disturb me, okay?_

He goes straight to his bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. A few stray sobs bubble up in his chest, but he swallows them down. Just when he has the razor perched over where he wants to feel the pain, his phone buzzes in a text message. Curiosity takes over, and he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, reading the message.

**From Blaine:**

**Courage.**

A sick smile creeps onto his lips.

_If he only knew what that meant right now..._

Without any hesitation, he digs the razor blade deep into his wrist, deeper than he's ever gone. So deep, stars explode in his vision, and he sways, leaning against the counter, moaning softly in pain and pleasure all at once. Gritting his teeth, he twists the blade ever so slightly, blood pouring down his arm and onto the counter.

Caught in the moment, he continues to make slashes across his arm, each slit hurting more than the last, though none so much as the pain that brought him to this...

Kurt and Blaine are sitting across from each other, sipping their coffee. Kurt looks curiously at his boyfriend of about a week, as the shorter boy had called Kurt here, saying he had something important he needed to say. After a long moment's hesitation, he begins.

"Kurt, I- there's something I need to tell you. I haven't been completely honest with you."

Kurt furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but nods, silently asking Blaine to continue.

Reluctantly, Blaine says, "Kurt, I have a boyfriend."

Kurt smiles at him, nudging Blaine's foot with his. "Well, yeah, we've been together for a week."

Blaine looks like he wants to cry for a split second before resuming his poker face.

He says very softly, "His name is Jeremy, and we've been going steady for almost a year."

His arm is completely stained red, but it still isn't enough. He curses as he presses even deeper, seeing through slight tunnel-vision, but not thinking so much anymore.

_Just do it. You promised you'd do it soon anyway. No one loves you._

A tiny, tiny part of Kurt makes itself known.

_My Dad loves me... So does New Directions, and so does Blaine..._

_If any of them loved you, they'd ask you what's wrong, and see through your lies. If Blaine cared about you, he would have never broken your heart. No one. Fucking. Loves. You._

"I know," he whispers softly to himself, before he digs the razor deeper, the black rushing to his vision, and he falls.


	2. Epilogue

**A/N: Wow! I was amazed at all of the favorite story and story alerts I got in such a short time, and all of the reviews were wonderful. Cyber-cookies and kazoos to everyone that did so!**

**I originally intended this to be a oneshot, but after several reviews practically begging me continue, I couldn't resist this little epilogue. It was surprisingly easy to write... Maybe depressed!Kurt is my forte! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and if you really love, click the little review button on the bottom of the page.**

Kurt slowly opens his eyes, taking a good look at his surroundings: a white room, scratchy sheets, and a too bright light are the first things to register. Upon further investigation, an obnoxious beeping is ringing out from his right, and an IV is dripping something or another into his arm through a needle. His other arm feels incredibly stiff, and he looks down to see it wrapped in so much gauze, it's a wonder he can still move his fingers.

A quick glance to his right confronts him with the image of his entire family: Burt, Carole, and Finn, sleeping, along with a familiar curly haired boy, who looks pretty peaceful.

_Blaine, that BASTARD, what the hell is he doing here?_

Brain confused and fuzzy, Kurt closes his eyes again, just wanting the painful light to go away.

He's on the floor, blood pouring freely from the purple vein, so raggedly opened. Black fuzzes around his vision, and suddenly, everything goes from painful pleasure to cloudy confusion. Then, far too loud, a shout comes from the doorway.

"Oh my God, KURT!"

Before he can register why that voice sounds familiar, he's scooped into someone's decently strong arms.

"Finn, CALL 911!"

He looks up at this person's face, slowly and weakly, to see the worried features of Blaine looking right back at him.

"Go 'way..." he slurs.

Blaine simply shakes his head. "Not when you need me, Kurt. God, I'm so sorry..."

Everything goes dark.

Kurt's eyes dart open.

_Oh. He found you. How fucking perfect._

His throat is extremely dry, and there's a full cup of water on the table beside his bed. He reaches the gauzed arm out, but he can't reach the thirst-quenching glass. A small frustrated noise that could almost be categorized as a growl slips past his lips, and awakens Blaine.

The shorter boy walks over and hands the cup to Kurt, who accepts it with a shaking hand.

"Here, let me help," he offers quietly, voice rough from crying. He gently helps Kurt sit up and drink from the water.

"Th-thanks," Kurt says reluctantly, not wanting to be rude to Blaine for helping him, but also wishing he wasn't here to bring back painful memories.

Blaine sits on the opposite side of Kurt's family in a small, plastic hospital chair.

"Kurt, I- I know I was a real dick to you," he begins, making Kurt raise his eyebrow at the language the normally dapper boy uses, "and I would just like to say that I'm sorry. I realize you may not accept this apology, and- I understand why-"

Kurt rasps out, his voice scratchy still from not being used, "No, you don't. You don't understand, and you never will."

After a few seconds, Blaine whispers, "I know."

They simply look at each other for a long while, not saying a word, before Kurt finally breaks the tension.

"Why did you come after me?"

Blaine smiles slightly, saying, "I couldn't get you out of my head. I had to see you then." He looks down at Kurt's gauzed arm, taking his hand slowly. "I'm glad I did."

Kurt feels so confused, as half of him wants to slap Blaine for ruining his plans, and the other wants to kiss him for finally caring so much. Instead of doing either, he opts for a simple, "Won't Jeremy be jealous of you being here?"

_Woah, okay, wrong question..._ Kurt thinks as Blaine's eyes darken at the name.

Despite the change in mood, Blaine answers with a calm, "We broke up. He wasn't right for me."

"Oh."

Kurt is extremely aware of the fact that Blaine is still holding his hand, and his heart beats a bit faster than usual at that, a fact that is embarrassingly known to everyone thanks to the monitor on his other side. His face flushes a bit and he looks away from Blaine.

"Kurt, I don't think you realize- realize what a truly special person you are."

Kurt doesn't look at him, doesn't say a word, even though what Blaine says is true down to the very last word, almost as if he can hear Kurt's thoughts.

"But hopefully you'll see one day that you are the strongest, sweetest, most _perfect_ person in the world."

_And he's wrong again. Figures._

"And I just can't wait until the day when you realize that."

**Made a wrong turn**

**Once or twice.**

**Dug my way out**

**Blood and fire.**

**Bad decisions**

**That's alright.**

**Welcome to my**

**Silly life.**

**Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood,**

**Miss, "No way, it's all good."**

**It didn't slow me down.**

**Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated,**

**Look, I'm still around.**

**Pretty, pretty please,**

**Don't you ever ever feel,**

**Like you're less than**

**Fucking perfect**

**Pretty pretty please**

**If you ever ever feel**

**Like you're nothing,**

**You're fucking perfect to me**.

After what seems like an eternity later, Kurt's back in school at McKinley, and everything is exactly the same as before he left. Every morning he's tossed into the dumpster, and every afternoon one of the jocks slams him into a locker or delivers a freezing slushie facial. Kurt troops through the day with a stony poker face, until Glee, when he's finally able to make himself heard.

"Mr. Schue, I have something prepared that I want to sing."

His teacher smiles, gesturing theatrically. "The floor is yours Kurt."

**You're so mean**

**When you talk**

**About yourself**

**You were wrong.**

**Change the voices**

**In your head**

**Make them like you instead.**

**So complicated, look happy, you'll make it!**

**Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game.**

**It's enough! I've done all I can think of.**

**Chased down all my demons**

**I've seen you do the same.**

He stands at the front of the room, looking out at all of the members of New Directions.

_You're friends._

_Right..._

His conflicting emotions swirl around in his head for a few more moments. Finally, Kurt begins to sing, all of the pain from the past few weeks infiltrated into the lyrics and notes, his voice sounding almost heavier from all of the feeling behind it.

**The whole world's scared so I swallowed the fear.**

**The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer.**

**So cool in line, but we try, try, try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time.**

**I'm done looking for the critics 'cause they're everywhere.**

**They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair.**

**Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time.**

**Why do we do that? Why do I do that? Why do I do that?**

Everyone watches on, a few with mouths slightly open, as Kurt opens his soul out to them all. Guilt clouds their veins, and each one of them is especially grateful for Blaine now. Each person that had ever accepted Kurt's answers of "I'm fine, really, just kind of tired." tears up, and when Kurt's finished, they all walk over and engulf him in a big group hug.

This is all their faults too.

**Pretty pretty please,**

**Don't you ever ever feel**

**Like you're less than**

**Fucking perfect.**

**Pretty pretty please,**

**If you ever ever feel**

**Like you're nothing,**

**You're fucking perfect to me!**

"Kurt, I love you."

"I love you too, Blaine."

_Everything will be alright._

_Okay._

**Song "Fucking Perfect" by P!nk, absolutely phenomenal, if you haven't heard it! Go look it up now!**

**I own nothing except a copy of the song "Fucking Perfect" and a Glee Season 1 DVD.**


End file.
